


alcohol ruins everything

by chiron_ne



Series: there's not enough Sam and T'Challa fics [1]
Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alcohol, Drunken Confessions, Drunkenness, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 05:37:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11247399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiron_ne/pseuds/chiron_ne
Summary: ((okay so you know what'd be GreatT'challa is staying in Stark tower for business or w/everFuckin, Sam Wilson is really tired and/or drunk and Stark tower is fuckin big and repetitive and he somehow manages to fall asleep in T'Challa's room instead of his ownTbh, that's all you really need to know for this one shot. Drunken shenanigans ensue





	alcohol ruins everything

**Author's Note:**

  * For [InNeedOfANap](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InNeedOfANap/gifts).



Sam didn't like Tony's stupid ass Stark Tower. He did, however, like drinking. The amount of times Steve and Natasha have called him a martini guy at a bar was annoyingly often, but true. 

What he didn't like about drinking was the side effects, which usually outweighed the benefits if you drank too much. Unlike almost everyone else, he didn't have superhuman powers to heal over the side effects. T'Challa and his Dora Milaje watched in amusement and/or disgust at the excessive drinking, not taking part to Sam's disappointment. He had really want to see T'Challa drunk, or at least a little laidback.

Of course, he was only staying there for business. Unlike Sam, who came for the technology and the overpriced alcohol. 

"Fuckin-" Sam muttered as he stubbed his toe on a door, which led to  _another_ goddamn hallway. While Stark Tower was huge and beautiful and technology advanced, it was repetitive to say the least. Repetition and drunkenness did not mix well. He kept stumbling through the tower, taking this way and that until he  _finally_ found a bedroom. There he just plopped down and died inside, falling asleep easily. 

 

"T'Challa, seriously?" He chuckled as he watched the man in front of him dance to Marvin Gaye, of all people. 

"Wakanda has been hacking other countries for ages, Mr. Wilson, I can't expect you to believe we haven't heard of Marvin Gaye." He laughed, Sam practically melting in his seat. He made his move and stood up, strolling over to T'Challa and dancing with him. Time seemed to pass by almost immediately, finding both of them on the couch and danced out.

"Sam, I'm surprised Mr. Stark had to hint to me," T'Challa started, chuckling at Sam's surprised gaze. "Many times, in fact, before I realised what he was trying to say."

"That son of a bitch couldn't even keep his mouth shut about a middle school crush." He sighed, hiding his face. "Yeah, yeah, I like you n' all but a k-king? Liking me? Only happens in movies." He cringed at his wording, laying back. "I'm an idiot."

"I guess I'm an... idiot too." T'Challa said after a while of awkward silence. He looked over at Sam, who was chuckling and shaking his head. T'Challa took a deep breath and, carefully, took Sam's hand in his.

He could practically hear his heartbeat quickening, and when he felt T'Challa's lips on his it only got louder. Then, it was hands, then it was sheets against his back, clothes off his body and everything was perfect.

* * *

He woke up the next morning with an excruciating headache no amount of Ibuprofen could heal. He sat up and took in his surroundings for the first time. Suitcases, an outfit laid neatly on its chair, a suit on a hanger or something. His headache was refusing to help him process anything. 

It actually took him a bit to add two and two together, especially when he noticed T'Challa sleeping in the chair next to him. 

"...What in the hell are you doing here?"

"I could ask the same to you, since you are in my room, Mr. Wilson." He raised an eyebrow as Sam choked softly on his spit at that sentence, opening his eyes slowly. 

 _You really fucked up now, Sam._ He thought to himself, watching as T'Challa sat next to him. They say in silence, staring at each other before he broke the silence again. "You talk in your sleep, Mr. Wilson."

"Call me Sam, and, yeah, I know," he mumbled as he stretched, narrowly missing T'Challa's face. "Anything interesting you heard?"

"Quite interesting. Something about Marvin Gaye?" They both chuckled at that, easing the obvious tension in the room. "Middle school crushes, too. Then... noises that were soft but... inappropriate to describe."

Sam sat there, wide eyed and starting at T'Challa, who stared back calmly. "Oh fuck," he muttered under his breath, rubbing a hand down his face. "Look, I get it if you don't like me like, like that. I get it, so much. You can just say no and we can act like you didn't hear about any of that, if need be. Just, damn, I don't need this getting out and Steve teasing me for the rest of my damn life, I really don't- I'm so sorry, dude, god-"

"Wilson, you don't need to worry!" Sam's anxiety heightened at T'Challa's smile and laugh. It wasn't even a nervous one from what he could tell, it was a casual lighthearted one. When Sam wished to see him more laid back, he wasn't expecting this.

T'Challa's laughing fit ceased, that beautiful smiling still on his face, he sighed and moved the tiniest bit next to Sam. "Classes don't matter when it comes to who you like, Sam. I-If you like someone, things like that don't matter."

"They don't?"

"They don't." He smiled at Sam, who gave a small smile back.

"They don't," he repeated, looking away, feeling the heat rise in his cheeks. They both sat in another silence, but a more comfortable one. Everything had settled down, the only sound they heard was the busy street behind them and the rustling of sheets as T'Challa laid next to him.

"I'd ask you on a date but my head and stomach are working against me."

"Alcohol ruins everything," T'Challa mumbled, causing Sam to chuckle softly. "There's always tomorrow, Sam."

"Yeah, tomorrow's good."


End file.
